Homecoming

Next morning Inyanga castoff from our raft after goodbyes and motored out of the harbor. They had a little farther to go than we did and wanted to get an earlier start. We finished breakfast and tidied up the boat, then raised the anchor for the last time, and picked our way out of the anchorage. Once in the bay, we pointed the bow south and forged on toward Deale.

We had light breezes on the nose, of course. Prevailing winds this time of year are southerlies here in the bay, and all along the Atlantic coast, but it helped being in protected waters, as the chop was minimal and the motion of the boat easy.

We’re about five miles north of the bay bridge at Annapolis

As we drew closer to the bridge, it grew in height and breadth. Ruth took a several photos of as we approached and passed through.

South of the bridge, we were really in the home stretch. Just 12 miles to go, and everyone of them familiar. The markers for Rockhold Creek hove into sight, and we aimed for the channel.

Travelling up the creek to our home slip, as we have done so many times seemed unreal after our odyssey of approximately 1000 miles, 10 weeks of travel afloat, and countless anchorages.

It’s good to be home! We will savour the conveniences of living on land now that we have spent the summer without them, and we will enjoy the comfort of routine – so starkly different to living life aboard a sailboat.

I don’t think we will undertake so long a trip on the boat again. There are places to go, and things we would love to do on the water, but I think a chartered boat for a week would satisfy those desires. Places like the Caribbean that we would like to sail may be best done through a charter company. We will still have adventures around the Chesapeake, and there are many places here we haven’t explored, but we’ve experienced living aboard for an extended period now, and I think that has satisfied our desire.

We love the cruising condition of the boat now. She’s more capable than ever, and perfectly equipped to enjoy cruising for weeks at a time, or just day-sailing.

Rock Hall

Home waters! We motored the one remaining mile of the C & D Canal to the Elk River, that runs directly into the northern Chesapeake Bay. From there all the waters were familiar. We began the day with a fair current which turned against us by about 1300 and dropped our speed to 5 knots, and the light breeze turned onto our nose. Still we forged on until 1530 when the entrance to Rock Hall hove into sight. We made the necessary maneuvers to get into the channel and floated into the calm pool of the northern harbor. We were there about an hour ahead of Inyanga because they sailed with the breezes far to the east, nearly to Baltimore, then cut back across the bay to Rock Hall while we motored most of the way into the wind. We got a good anchor set and called Inyanga to invite them to raft up with us. Ruth cooked a meal of pasta, Brian brought appetizers, and Ruth brought out the brownies she had somehow baked on board in a dutch oven.

We sat for a long time remembering our summer afloat cruising north, then south again. Finally it was time to turn in, which meant me work was really just starting. . . I got the dishes washed, heated water for the shower, and got everything shipshape again, and we turned in for the final evening of the cruise. Tomorrow we would be in our own slip.

Our anchorage is marked by the pin

Time Constraints

Our plan had been to go east about the Delaware/Maryland/Virginia peninsula on the return trip and make port calls in the Atlantic coastal cities. We were unable to follow through due to a illness in Brian’s family, so we took the shortest route home through Delaware Bay and the C & D Canal.

We left Cohansey River at 0600 to take advantage of the north bound current through Delaware Bay. It was surreal to motor out through glassy water that the night before had been a raging white capped nightmare. We motored northwest up the bay until we arrived at the canal entrance.

Delaware Bay is a major shipping lane with the ports of Wilmington and Philadelphia up stream on the Delaware River. As we passed a power station a big dredge operation was working on our right. He radioed us and warned us to stay clear, only he didn’t identify himself. At the same time, and large tanker was coming down stream towards us, and called warning us to get out of the way . . . without identifying himself. At the time, I had no idea who was who, and they weren’t interested in explaining themselves. We finally figured it out, but their radio hails were more confusing than helpful.

We entered the Canal west-bound, and made it within a mile of the western terminus before we turned into the port of Chesapeake City.

Saturday night in Chesapeake City is pretty exciting. Well . . . it’s loud, anyway. Power boaters – especially owners of the big, loud, powerful speed boats were in abundance. I guess there were 20 of them rafted up at the restaurant dock bar. Maybe it was a club function. Regardless, on our way to town that in our eight-foot rowing dinghy I was tempted to call out and threaten them with swamping with my massive dinghy wake (I restrained myself. . . ). The band played outdoors; people cheer and yelled, the boaters ran their stereos loudly even though there was a band that was louder than everything. Alcohol fuels most of activity, and I’m not talking about E-90.

We four had dinner that night at the Tap Room, which was crowded and noisy – for good reason. The food was excellent, the staff was friendly and light hearted, and the prices were too low to be true. If ever in Chesapeake City, I would recommend it over any of the waterside bars and restaurants.

We returned to Cay of Sea made our evening routine of showers, medications (we’re old!), teeth, and got into bed.

From our first stop in Chesapeake City.

Second Day of the Two!

My last post was titled Two More Days but I only talked about one. Here’s the Second Day, in which lots of calm time riding the boat was in contrast to the drama and panic of anchoring.

We left Cape May via the Cape May Canal, and exited into Delaware Bay northbound. Our planned stop was two thirds the way up at a place called Cohansey Cove, which is adjacent to the Cohansey river. We arrived in good time, covering 38 nautical miles by mid afternoon. We tried rafting, but the chop made that impractical, so we anchored separately. I dozed off while reading, until my place of repose started to act like a bucking bronco. The wind had picked up, as expected, and turned the anchorage into a place of rolling chop, pitching the ends of the boat four feet up, then down four feet every 3 seconds. I didn’t see how we could tolerate this for very long, but the wind was forecast to die down later. We were willing to tough it out for while.

Until Inyanga’s anchor dragged.

The only option was to go into the river, about which we had little data. However, there was a marina up the river with sailboats moored (we could see the tops of their masts) so it must be deep enough for us.

Up we went. Depth did turn out to be problem but not like we expected. 25 feet of depth for anchoring is pretty deep for us Chesapeake sailors. We’re accustomed to 8-15 feet at most. 25 feet of depth took almost all of Brian’s chain to give us a 5 to 1 scope. Still hoping to raft together, we got set up to contribute to dinner together, and then Andy noticed that we moving. The tide had changed and the current reversed. The anchor couldn’t manage the change. We tried to anchor again nearby, but were not confident with the holding. Finally, we decided to go further up the river to find more suitable holding. I found a spot with 12 feet, Brian found some nearby with 15. We anchored separately and gave up on dinner. This time the anchors held well and we stayed put through the night.

Ruth and I had a cold dinner and went to bed early.

Sunset on the Cohansey River

From Norwalk Islands to Sandy Hook

Big transition today. We sailed a record 57 miles and moved out of New England down to the Mid-Atlantic coast. The first half was easy. Our passage west on the last bit of Long Island Sound was absolutely placid. Calm winds and waters . . except for the weekend power boaters who seem to think they are still on the highway when they take to the water. I have often wanted to have a conversation with these folks to determine why, exactly, when surrounded by multiple square miles of open water, that they chose to pass us within a couple of boat lengths. They are often plowing giant furrows of water as they go, disrupting everything near their path. It’s like they think they are on the beltway during the afternoon commute. And, as you can imagine, the nearer we got to New York City, the more frequently this occured. Sunday driving at it’s worst, and since it was Sunday, the weekenders were in full force.

We timed the transit through NYC carefully again, to take advantage of the strong currents that flow through the East River. Again, we flew on the currents at record speed, topping out at 10.5 knots, but often in the 8-9knot range. That made the 13 mile trip through the city pass very quickly. But unlike our east-bound trip, where the winds and current were in concert, our west-bound journey featured strong winds in opposition to our westward vector creating some incredibly choppy conditions. Hell Gate was especially “exciting” as we plunged bow down into a short, steep chop, then rocketed skyward on the rebound, all the while clocking 9 and 10 knots.

Actual video of us passing through Hell Gate.

The current squirted us out into the upper bay where rough conditions persisted. The only mitigating factor of the ride was that we were moving so fast. When I would get discouraged over prospect of so much more rough water ahead, I would glance at the gps and see that we were still moving at 7 and 8 knots.

The conditions were rough, but we still enjoyed the sights

I thought that Hell Gate was going to be the worst section of the transit until we passed into the lower bay through Verrazzano Narrows. Once again plunging and rocketing, wind on the nose. I began to quarter the chop, and that helped smooth the ride.

The protection of Sandy Hook gradually mitigated conditions, and we finally moved into the protection of the Cape completely. We found our anchorage and dropped the hook.

Reward after a difficult day on the water – sunset was spectacular.

Exhausted, but in reasonably peaceful water, Ruth cooked a simple meal. We showered and dropped into bed.

Port Washington to Huntington Ny

Yesterday we covered about 25 milies eastward, still on the Long Island side. The weather seemed iffy when we began, and we heard reports of gusts exceeding 20 knots. We decided to make the jump, and it turned out to be the best day of sailing so far. Leaving Port Washington, we were beset by juvenal dinghy sailors having a great time, shepherded by an instructor – rescue boat. The amount of fun they were having was sometimes exceeded by their unpredictable maneuvers, several times tacking directly across our bow. I slowed down a lot and gave the space their youthful enthusiasm required. One youngster looked surprised when he saw that he had cut across our path and called out “sorry!” to which I replied, no worries I was watching you.

Motoring directly windward, it occurred to me that now would be a great time to make sail. Cay of Sea is a completely manual boat, with few modern conveniences with regard to sail handling. No roller furling, no self tailing winches. Any time a sail change is required, I have to go on deck and see to it. By comparison, our companion boat Inyanga (Island Packet 32) has all the conveniences: roller furling head sails and main, all operated from the cockpit. When we decide to make sail together, Brian pulls a couple lines and poof, he’s sailing. I, on the other hand, spend 10 minutes making things happen on deck before we settle into a point of sail.

This time was slightly different, as I anticipated a need for reefed sails before we ever dropped the mooring. It’s much easier to set the reefs up while the boat is still. So I removed the sail cover from the main, and unbagged the head sail, then set reefs in both. Our 117% genoa has one set of reefs in the foot of the sail. It’s an old idea, but the sail is in great condition, and taking area out of the foot of the sail lets it set perfectly, with optimal shape. Not so with roller furling headsails. As soon as the sail is rolled up by any significant amount, the shape of the sail suffers, and the boat sails less efficiently.

If you look through to the front of the boat in this photo, you can see the foot of the reefed genoa.

This was a great sail. We had a beam reach in 12-15 knots gusting to 20. Cay of Sea set her shoulder down and sailed so well! We were regularly exceeding 6 knots sometimes even exceeding the theoretically practical speed limit of our hull when we surfed a swell. Helm balance is tricky. Too far off the wind and the boat slows down. Too hard on the wind, and the boat feels overpowered, rounding up to windward, heeling excessively, and producing lots of weather helm.

Here I am struggling with a bit of weather helm

Surprisingly, we wound up far ahead of Inyanga, and decided to heave to for five or so minutes so she could catch up with us.

As we angled more tightly to the wind, crew comfort began to trump speed and excitement. I dropped the sails and started the motor, making the final four miles into a charming, protected harbor jam-packed with boats on moorings. We were very fortunate to have gotten slips in the yacht club as transients

Manasquan to Sandy Hook

After a three-day stay and several needed repairs, we got off the pier by 0845. Brian still had a little business to clear up, then wanted to manuever a little bit before he left the security of marine services and safe haven, so we waited in the channel, slowly dodging the boat traffic until he got under way. All was well aboard Inyanga, and we set off through the many, many fishing boats that dotted the channel. Manasquan is overwhelmingly a fishing town, private and commercial. I don’t think we actually saw another sailboat while we were there!

Threading our way through the fishing fleet, watching the navigation aids, with one eye on depth and the other on the chart (insert photo of me looking cross-eyed) we made our way to open water and immediately benefitted from the much cooler sea breeze. I don’t think the North Atlantic ever gets very warm, and the effect on the ambient temperature is a welcome relief from the heat and still air of the marina.

We made sufficient offing once through the inlet, and turn left once again, this time with Sandy Hook NJ in our sights. After two hours of motoring, it seemed that the breeze filled in enough to sail.

We had also finished our breakfast underway by then, and relaxed after the scramble getting off the pier. We were berthed in an inside slip, through which the current absolutely ripped, slowing only as high and low water reached their peak. We were leaving on the flood, but it was only an hour or so into the cycle, so the current wasn’t at maximum yet. Still, we needed help from the dock crew to assure departure without mishap. They controlled the bow as we slowly backed out of the slip, then gave the bow a good shove to clear the last piling. I moved forward, continuing to swing to starboard until I could steer straight out into the channel. Whew! Nerve wracking.

Setting sail for another down-wind leg, we turned into the wind to raise the main. Having set the main, I set the genoa after bearing back to our original course. Ruth sheeted the clew of the genoa tight while I attached the pole to the clew. I gradually slid the pole, with with clew attached, out the opposite side from the main, then attached the inboard end of the pole to the mast ring. Ruth trimmed the sheet, and we were off to the races again, averaging 5 knots.

Three hours later, we were approaching the channel marks that guide us into the Sandy Hook Bay. We brought down the sails, and motored around the hook, searching the western side of the hook to anchor. Finally, in Horseshoe Cove, we dropped the anchor at 1530.

You can make out the misty skyline of Manhattan. We’re about 10 nautical miles south of it in this photo.

The blue dot is where we are .

Friday night is typically pizza night, and Brian and Staci joined us for dinner, under a brilliant sunset.

Next day was a stay-at-anchor day, and we explored the beach on both sides of the Hook.

Such a typical beach pic! Floppy hats, sunglasses!

On the Atlantic Side

We rested today, after a very rolly first night in this anchorage. Our second night was very peaceful, but it seems that we’re still catching up on rest. Every time I sat down my eyes seemed to close. We had intended to depart today to transit through NYC on the East River, but we were uncomfortable with our understanding of the route, tides and currents. We will be passing through a very turbulent section of the river called Hell Gate, where the current can exceed 5 knots. We really needed to be comfortable with our plan for that trip, which starts tomorrow at 0600. It’s only about 30 nautical miles from our current location, but the tides and currents are optimal for us if we leave at 0600.

And here’s the end of today . . .

Cape May to Atlantic City

We really liked Cape May, but it was time to go. 0800 was our agreed departure time, but little chores kept cropping up, and we got under way by 0830. The marina crew helped us off the pier because of the current, and then we were off. A half hour of motoring put us in the Atlantic, and we turned turned north.

We’ve been blessed with a sequence of stunningly bright, cool days while on the Jersey Coast. Clear skies, temperatures in the upper 60s and 70s, calm breezes that build through the day, but don’t get too strong. Happy to say that coastal sailing isn’t all gales and rain, or insufferable heat.

We motored through the morning, except for a few minutes when the breeze deceived us, leading us to believe that the prevailing southerly wind had arrived. No sooner did I have the sails trimmed but the developing breeze turned into a zephyr. I left the mains’l up but struck the Genoa and started the engine. We could have sailed at 1-2 knots, but wouldn’t have reached AC before dark, which would have been a real mistake.

The wind arrived in the early afternoon and I raised the genoa again, setting it on a pole. We began to see the occasional white cap while we were whisked along, borne by a fair current and winds from astern.

Dolphins are the unexpected entertainment every day. Rolling, jumping, cavorting. I never get tired of watching them. Their playground is this amazing, blue ocean water. The color is brilliant.

I’m not sure if the color is coveyed well through the photo.

Our cruising buddies took a few photos of Cay of Sea, posted below.

Photos by Staci Walden

Approaching Atlantic City evokes different reactions depending on the anticipation of the skyline viewer.

This is actually our “rear view mirror” on the next day (posts run a day behind). Some folks get excited by the beach, the casinos, the entertainment opportunities. Others are impressed with the skyline itself, and there is a certain beauty to that. My emotion when viewing the city from the water is, well, disappoinment, I guess. I’ve never visited AC, but I know what goes on there, and it’s not for me. The anchorage bears nothing to write home about, either (wait, isn’t that what I’m doing . . .?). We cast about the estuary at Absecon Inlet for 45 minutes, and were not satisfied with any possibility. The anchorage recommended on the Chart was really not ideal, but that’s where we ended up. To be fair, we were in good holding (sand, I think – the anchor came up clean this morning), and there was some protection offered by the giant hotels nearby. However, it was a boat traffic thoroughfare, there was music all night from the hotel pool deck near us, and flies. We looked elsewhere before settling on the designated anchorage, but everything else was equally unprotected. Just wide spots in the marshy wetlands, filled with flies.

Cruiser alert: Atlantic City is not a good stop-over if you are anchoring out.

We slept remarkably well at that place, mostly because I was confident about our anchor set and holding ground.

I’m having increasing challenges recovering our anchor. Apparently the chain is twisting as we spin around the hook on the tides, and this leads to the chain twisting and subsequently not feeding correctly through the windlass chain gypsy. When that happens, all progress stops, and I have to release the brake, drop a few inches of chain back towards the water and start a new. This time consuming, easily doubling time needed for anchor retrieval. I guess the fix is a swivel fitting. I need to look into this.

Fairlee Creek to Chesapeake City on the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal.

We made 26 miles today up through the northern part of the bay, and we are officially not on the Chesapeake anymore, as we entered the Canal. Chesapeake City is about three miles down from the northwest end of the Canal.

Today’s transit was uneventful, with calm weather, moderate winds from astern. We motored again all day, and will continue to do so unless the wind direction serves our goals. However, no sailing on the C&D. No room, and maneuverability is important. Huge ships transit the Canal and rightfully claim the right of way. We will always be the give-way vessel, and we have to get out of the way quickly and easily. So for the remaining 12 miles of canal, we will motor and stay out of the way.

Both banks of the Canal visible in this photo. Compared to the Bay, it’s very narrow. I’m a little anxious about staying on the far right to stay out of shipping traffic.

When we went ashore today, I took this photo of our rafted boats. Cay of Sea is on the far side. Inyanga is near.

Chesapeake City is just SE of this bridge. We are anchored in this snug little basin with a surprisingly numerous fleet of other sailboats that came in here for overnight.

I didn’t tell the complete truth above, when I said the transit was uneventful. I actually created an event while trying to adjust the auto pilot sensitivity settings. I read the instructions carefully before trying to change the settings. My attempts to change them were ineffective. So I began pushing random combinations of buttons just get any sort of reaction from it. I finally made progress when I discovered following the instructions exactly they way they guided me was important, but not before I tracked the most erratic course ever seen on these waters. Had I been driving a car, I would have been pulled over blowing in a breathalyzer. Our cruising buddies were behind us, but never mentioned my wandering. . . . Nice people.

Sailing 3 weeks before Winter Haul-out

The weather was too perfect today. I had to get out on the water. I asked my wife if she wanted to go, but she had business in town. I went alone. 55 deg. F.  Wind SE at 12-15. Partly cloudy skies. Perfect.

I started with reefed main and full jib, but that was too much. I dropped the main and sailed nicely at 4+ knots. Back and forth, keeping a sharp eye out for crab pot buoys – don’t want a repeat of last year, when I lost my prop shaft. Tiller pilot is steering, so I can move around and take photos.

Others thought the day was too beautiful to miss also.  Quite a few boats on the water, mostly sail. I love the light at this time of day – makes every image warm, full of contrast.

In three weeks, Cay of Sea gets hauled for the winter, and I’m looking for another prop – again! I don’t like the three-blade prop I installed last spring. It needs to have the pitch adjusted, which is no big deal, but more importantly the boat’s performance under sail takes a pretty big hit. I’m going back to a two-blade, and maybe a folding prop. If you are looking for a three blade, 13×13, right hand with 1″ shaft, drop me a line below. This one is for sale at a less-than-new price.